


we're okay.

by zeldaring



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Anxiety, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Nightmares, Panic Attacks, SO MUCH FLUFF I CANT, Sleeping Together, Tiny bit of Angst, asahi's a nerd and so is noya they're all nerds, i mean probably the most softcore smut you'll come across, idk - Freeform, like the lamest makeout scene ever ok, this is just like, why did I write this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-28
Updated: 2016-05-28
Packaged: 2018-07-10 17:20:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,083
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6997582
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zeldaring/pseuds/zeldaring
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I woke up to hearing you. To being overwhelmed by you. Breathing you.”<br/>Noya stares, and his hand he curls behind Asahi’s neck. He pushes gently on his bicep to pull himself up, and their lips connect lightly, so gently.<br/>The tightness seeped away.<br/>or<br/>Asahi has awful nightmares and would rather die than give Noya another reason to leave. (ft. the many metaphorical deaths of Asahi)</p>
            </blockquote>





	we're okay.

**Author's Note:**

> this is my first piece i've ever published since i was like 14 on the internet and what is it? it's gay volleyball dork sleep overs incredible I'll show myself out.

Silence had always been suffocating. It was empty and spacious, never ending and yet somehow so close to his skin. A void that had walls thick like iron gates, and compact with breakable uncertainty. The darkness that came with it clung like a chain around his neck and hung thick, impenetrable.  
Together they created a prison, only as tall as him, yet oceans long; trapped within a thin embrace of nothingness that entangled between his fingers and engulfed his touch.  
He’d wake, chest tight and heaving, his lungs starved oxygen, with a scream drowned between splutters of his tongue. He would sometimes be shaking, sometimes so still like the darkness was binding his limbs in some sort of straight jacket, leaving him cackling menacingly in restraint of his own web he’d personally spun. His eyes would be wide, and he’d clutch his heart maybe a little too hard, until skin broke, or nail marks left angry pink on his bicep.  
Nishinoya would always poke at it the next day, much to Asahi’s horror. Small fingers prodding the nasty scratches over his heart, marking it like a treasure map.  
He’d try and shield himself with his shirt, using his larger hand to engulf Noya’s and yank them away. But he had always been so persistent, and the skin between his eyebrows would crease in determination.  
“Asahi-san,” he’d mutter, and Asahi tried not to shiver at the silky pads of Noya’s fingers on his tight skin, “do you have a cat?”  
“Yes?” he’d squeak, because that had always been somehow easier than explaining the encompassment of his situation.  
Noya tilted his head and ran his palm against his chest, as if it was the most normal thing in the world. “Maybe you need a nicer cat.”

***

“You should come over - stay the night!”  
Asahi physically froze in place, his shirt pulled half way over his head. He turned, blinded by white cotton, and then hastily fumbled to get it over his body.  
“What?” he stuttered, mouth full of fabric.  
“I said, YOU SHOULD COME OVER!” Noya’s laughter shook through his whole body as he bounded towards Asahi, helping him scramble out of his shirt.  
Asahi blinked as he came face to face with Noya, who stood contently on the tips of his toes, pressing his nose against his. He stepped back a bit, but Noya seemed to only sink closer into him.  
“I—well—you see…”  
Noya’s eyes were wide, expectant, yet tainted with determination. Asahi desperately tried to search his brain for a string of words, trying to avoid those huge eyes. “I have homework.” Asahi gulped the words down, a fruitless attempt. Noya crossed his hands, his presence suddenly becoming larger in the face of Asahi.  
“It’s a Friday.” Noya states plainly  
“It’s due in tomorrow.”  “Tomorrow is Saturday."  “It’s overdue?”  
“I have an assignment that is a week over due, you don’t see me skipping out on you!” Noya’s face somehow becomes closer and his expression intensifies. Asahi’s wasn’t too sure why Noya not caring about school meant that he should too, and the thought almost made it to his tongue.

Except, his overdue assignment was made up; but there was something weirdly reassuring that he came before school work for Noya (even if a lot of things probably came before school work - Noya would probably rather do something radical like clean his room than do homework.) 

“Come. Over.” It’s not a question anymore, it’s a demand. Asahi’s fingers instinctively dig into the back of his head, curling through the thick of his hair, and looks down towards the ground.  
Noya sighs and sways on the tip of his toes.  
“We don’t have to… do anything.” Noya’s voice becomes uncharacteristically low, almost unnervingly. Asahi becomes numb under the pressure of this new tone. “I know you’re… you’re kinda….” Noya’s voice trails off, as if he never intended to finish his sentence. Instead he gazes up at Asahi, eyes brimming with some sort of passion that Asahi can’t put his finger on. Noya’s features where so broad in the dim light of the Club Room, so exaggerated by the shadows of the setting sun. His face, so cool, yet so bright; like a painted canvas, watching Asahi’s expression.  
Somehow, Noya towered over him, but in a different sense.  
“It’s—it’s not that.”  
Noya’s expression shifted slightly,  
“I just…” But there are no words. He shuts his mouth, opens it, and then shuts it again.  
He does his best to put on his determined face, his game face, and stutters out “I-I’ll coming over.”  
“You’ll come over or you are coming over?”  
“Both.”  
Noya’s expression relaxes slightly, softens the same way clouds become less tense just after the break of a storm. Then he’s convulsing energy again, and grinning maniacally, grabbing handfuls of Asahi’s shirt with small bubbles of laughter spilling from his mouth.  “Great! I’ll cook!” Asahi only nods furiously, gulping down any form of protest because it would just be a waste of breath with Noya.  
Then Noya was sprinting off and out of the Club Room, the echoes of his trainers squeaking. Asahi sighed, his palm becoming sweaty as he nervously ran them against his shirt. 

It wasn’t that Asahi didn’t like going over to Noya’s, on the contrary; Noya’s family were always so loving and welcoming, seeming to dismiss any form of ‘sorry for the intrusion,’ before it can even leave his mouth. Noya’s mother would wave it off almost instinctively, ushering Asahi into the kitchen and shoving plates of oden in his face and insisting that fish would help him focus, and eggs make you stronger and helps you grow.  
As if Asahi needs to get any bigger, he thinks, shoving his school shorts into his bag. He freezes for a second as Noya’s words run through his head, and realisation smacks him in the face. Frantically he tosses his water bottle in his bag, grabs his shoes and fumbles out of the Club Room.  
“Noya!” he half yelps as he comes tumbling out of the door, feet still bare.  
Noya looks up from his phone, a waning grin still plastered from earlier, “Yeeeeesss?”  
“Did… did you say you would cook?”  
“Yeahhh, why?”  
 “Won’t… won’t your mum be there to cook?” Asahi breathes out as Noya’s brows tilt mischievously, slipping his phone into his pocket. He leans against the steps railing and flashes Asahi a toothy grin.  
“How can she cook when she’s not home?” And there it was, there it was. Oh, Asahi should have known, he should’ve caught on sooner. At least he hadn’t gotten all the way to Noya’s and realised that his mother wasn’t going to be there. Which probably meant his dad wasn’t. And if his parents weren’t then his twin brother and sister certainly weren’t.  
Asahi straightens, if only a little, and lifts a single finger in protest.  
“Too late you said you would you can’t take it back you pinky promised sorry!”  
Asahi is pretty sure he didn’t pinky promise, and he’s about to voice that.

“Asahi!” He jumps at the sharp point of Daichi’s voice, who stood with an impatient expression at the foot of the step. How long had he been there? He glares up at Asahi. “Would you hurry up? Some of us want to get home before the weekends over.” Asahi shuffles out of the doorway, muttering apologetically, as Noya only smirks.  “I’m going to get my school bag!” he declares, “Wait for me by the gates.” It’s not a request, and even if it was, Noya’s gone before Asahi can even breathe. He risks a glance at Daichi, who has his arms crossed like he’s about lecture Asahi.  
Which he does.  
“Asahi.”  
“Yes, Daichi?”  
“I hope you know what you’re doing.” His stern voice sends unnerving shivers down Asahi’s already wrecked body. He shifts slighty on his feet. “So do I.” he sighs. Not even a crack of sympathy comes through on Daichi’s stone expression.  
“He’s only 16.” “Daichi! I know that!”  
“And although he’d never let on, Noya is pretty vulnerable-“  
“Daichi, I would never- “  
“And he’s also a lot smaller, and I don’t know much about this stuff but Asahi you’re pretty big-”  
“Please stop, Daichi!” Asahi groans and steadies himself on the railing, still warm with the ghost of Noya’s hand. “Daichi, maybe we shouldn’t jump to conclusions.” Suga’s kind hand holds firm on Asahi’s shoulder, and Asahi wonders if Suga was always there or answers to some sort of Bat-Signal that can tell when he’s in distress or cornered. “I’m sure Asahi would never hurt Noya, would you?” Daichi cocks an eyebrow and Suga gives a trusting look. Asahi looks like a doe in headlights. He seems to jump and blunder like one too.  
“What? No! Never I would never ever hurt Noya, ever. I would never hurt anyone! I— I— I really care for him!” Suga seems content with Asahi’s shameful spluttering and beams an encouraging smile in Daichi’s direction.  
“See? Asahi couldn’t even hurt a fly.”  
Daichi glares, arms still folded.  
“Not intentionally.” Both Suga’s and Asahi’s expressions drop. 

Ah. 

“Look,” Daichi rubs his brow and hangs his head. “I know Asahi would never intentionally hurt someone,” Daichi’s words drop like bricks in Asahi’s stomach, “but he doesn’t always know his own strength, either.” Suga’s grip tightens.  
“Daichi, you need to have more faith in Asahi.” Daichi pinches the bridge of his nose as Suga’s expression sturns. “He’s our trusted ace after all, and he’s so caring. We need to give him more credit. Don’t you trust him?”  
Asahi glances between the two as Suga stares stern and Daichi paints a rootless expression. The two seem to have a silent conversation through facial expressions.  
Asahi can’t help but be reminded of when his parents talk about him and his grades whilst he’s still hunched over on the sofa in the same room. They talk like he’s not there, bickering, even though he’s in plane sight.  
He wonders if this is how the junior teammates feel the majority of the time- the nicknames of ‘mum and dad’ seem more fitting for the pair than it did half an hour ago.  
Finally Daichi breaks and his shoulders relax, letting out a breath he’d obviously held. He unfolds his arms and stuffs them into his school trousers pockets, shrugging.  
“Of course I trust him.” Suga’s expression could melt steel into caramel. “I am, however, the captain.” Daichi turns once again stern to Asahi. “And therefore it’s my job to worry and voice my concerns.”  
Asahi nods frantically, “yes of course.” He braves a tiny smile, “thank you, for your concern.” Daichi grunts and Suga smiles brighter.  
“Just, be safe.” Daichi turns on his heel and walks about a feet, then stops. He physically tenses, “and if it comes to it- use, protection.” And then he’s stomping off, muttering something about Suga hurrying up.  
Asahi is mortified and wants to die and hates the way that Suga is stifling soft giggles. Suga gives Asahi’s shoulder one more encouraging squeeze and then strolls behind Daichi, who instinctively slows until Suga’s by his side.  
Suga waves back exultantly, enough energy for the both of them. 

 

“There you are!” Noya sighs dramatically, slumped against the gate post. Although the twinkle in his voice is still evident. “You took sooooooo long. I thought you’d died!” Noya chirped.  
Asahi scratched the back of his neck. “I may as well have”  
“What was that?” “nothing.” Noya smirks and bounds over, lacing his fingers with Asahi’s, leans closer into his side. Asahi lets breath hiss as his feet sync with Noya’, suddenly overly aware of the mass of his torso and the bulk of his arm.  
Not intentionally, though. It burns hot and bright in the back of his head, illuminating corners of mind that concealed darkest fears. Could he hurt Noya? Was he truly out of control of his own ability, his own need?  
He thinks of himself on the court, the intense sensation that sits in his chest and pulses through to the tips of his fingers as they slam against the ball. He hears the heavy thud, the painful smack of the ball as it grazes the waxed floor. The way his shoes leave harsh, black rubber burns.  
He imagines the same marks on Noya’s skin, the same sound of Noya’s body absorbing impact. He shudders with discontent.  
And then his mind pricks on a sensitive nerve, one that sits vulnerable and un-cushioned by tissue at the centre of his brain. “Am I staying the night?” Noya looks up from his phone, mid meme war with Tanaka, and tilts his head. “well, obviously.” Asahi blinks at the certainty in Noya’s voice, as if it was the only possible answer. “I wasn’t going to make you walk home at like 11pm.” “I could go home before that.” Asahi tries not too let panic etch into his voice.  
“You could, or you could stop being such a big baby and keep up your pinky promise.” “I didn’t pinky promise.”  
“Yes you did,” Noya stops in his tracks, staring him down. His eyes bear heavy on Asahi’s already breaking back. “Last week. After that practice match we had. You promised me faithfully that next time you’d come over you’d stay.” Asahi blinked cluelessly again. Had he promised that? His mind seems only able to conjure up a spur of adrenaline which tainted the edges of the memory, a flash of mixed colour palettes and excitement. Noya was defiantly a very prominent part of the memory, a stilled focus of a blurred photo. Noya had defiantly complimented him a lot that day, and he had spoken a rush of things.  
The more Asahi thought about it, the more it seemed probable.  
Whoops.  
Apparently, when Asahi was taken by adrenaline, he didn’t seem to care what he’d agreed too.  
“I’m sorry, Nishinoya.” He looked down, and Noya was already grinning again,  
“It’s fine!” He practically shouts, swinging their arms chaotically. “You’re coming now to be with me now as in today and that’s all that matters.” Noya seems to speak as he moves, unpredictable and in a scramble.  
But the thought stands conscious and painful in his head.  
His night terrors.  
Noya stops.  
“Asahi?”  
“hmm?”  
“you still haven’t put your shoes on.” Asahi stares down at his bare feet, bathed in dust and gravel, and clenches his hand around the trainers still dangling in his hands.  
“oh, yeah.”

 

***  
Asahi sits on Noya’s small bed, wringing his hands. He looks around the room nervously, eyes tracing over the messy stacks of CD’s and sprawled paper that swoop his desk. Noya’s room is littered with different posters; all hanging at odd angles, bright and colourful with different manga characters staring back at him. He recognises a few, but not all of them. Asahi choses to focus on the flash of pale cream wall that sits exposed in small cracks between posters, and for some awful reason it reminds him of the pale of Noya’s thigh when he extends his leg a little too much. The flash of fresh, unmarked skin, against the potent mess of faint blue bruises and the orange of his uniform is almost obscene, so fresh and bright as if it glows against its own colourful backdrop like the bleak of snow and ok Asahi has to stop.  
Then he looks at Noya’s own drawings which are taped clumsily onto the side of his wardrobe.  
Noya was pretty good at drawing—at least he was good at drawing manga characters. Even if he was considered good there was nothing gentle and elegant or careful about the way he drew: all harsh, thick black marker lines on pages and pressed curves of faces and sharp blades of their weapons. He doesn’t sketch, Asahi notes, he doesn’t even plan- he just draws. He just does. Not even in pencil, but in permanent black ink. If he makes a mistake he does a harsh scribble to try and block it out, doesn’t even get a fresh piece of paper.  
It’s all very Noya, he thinks.  
“I found drinks!” Noya barks happily, the door slamming open with a loud bang. A photo on his draw of him and his younger siblings shakes and Asahi is terrified it might drop.  
But it doesn’t, and Noya doesn’t even notice. Instead, he slams the tray down on his desk, tossing some unfinished school work out of the way.  
“I ordered the pizza, which should be here soon!” He chirps fondly, “and when I say soon- I mean in like 15 minutes. Aoki’s is pretty dam officiant.”  
“I thought you said you where cooking.”  
“Yeah, apparently we’re out of noodles and I don’t know how to cook anything else so. Pizza it is.”  
“But- you didn’t even ask what I-”  
“You like the Hamukon one. You always get it. Mum left me some money on the counter. We’re good.” Asahi stares at Nishinoya’s back as he drags out the folded table from under his desk.  
“Do I?” Noya turns, grinning.  
“Yeah, ya do.” He throws himself down next to Asahi, who tries not to flinch. Noya is uncomfortably close, his shoulder rubbing against Asahi’s arm, his shallow breath sending trembles through Asahi.  
He takes a calming breath. This was fine, nothing was happening. Noya was simply sitting next to him- so be it he was fidgeting, legs swinging chaotically, eyes manic and round and open and fixed on Asahi.  
But they where just sitting. And it was fine.  
Then he felt the creep of touch on his thigh, and his body spikes with the touch of fingers.  
“Noya!” Asahi gurgles out through a strained yelp. Noya doesn’t move his hand, only firms it.  
“whaaaat? I’m just resting my hand there.” Asahi gapes.  
“It’s fine, Asahi.” Noya grabs for Asahi’s left hand and rests it over his.  
“see? Chill. Breathe. We’re good.” Noya stares up at him, intently, patient, yet driven by some sort of fire that flickers behind the calm of his eyes.  
Asahi gulps, shuddering.  
God he wants to feel that fire against his fingers, he wants to know what it feels like for it to burn against his skin- to scorch his mouth.  
But at the same time he’s totally thankful that Noya keeps it locked away, letting it radiate soft warmth through his gentle grip instead.  
“We’re good.” he says again, for the third time now Asahi’s pretty sure. He lets out a breath he doesn’t even know he was holding, and melts into Noya’s touch. Noya grins wider as he feels the stone tenseness shift from Asahi, cuddling up closer. He then takes his right hand and shifts a stray strand out of Asahi’s face, and God it’s cheesy and boy does Noya have an obsession with Asahi’s hair- his fingers twirling strand in between before carefully placing it behind his ear.  
His finger tips tingle against Asahi’s ear.  
He leans forward, letting Noya’s fingers guide their faces closer. He can taste Noya’s breathe, his citrous and almost tangy sent clinging to Asahi’s mouth.  
“Yeah,” Asahi sighs into the hover of Noya’s lips, “we’re good.”  
Noya doesn’t need any more invitation, and crashes his lips desperately against his.  
Noya’s fingers grip Asahi’s thigh, and Asahi clings to dear life onto Noya’s hand. 

They end up a mess of limbs sprawled across Noya’s bed. Noya’s fingers find their way into Asahi’s hair, pulling it uncultivated and free from the head band so Noya can tangle his grip in it. Asahi sits propped against the bed, leaning on his elbow as Noya kneels in between his legs, knees knocking his thigh as Noya jerks and twitches from his own intensity. The pizza boxes lie askew on the pull out table, the last few pieces abandoned in favour for greasy lips and hungry kisses. He feels Noya’s knee get dangerously close to him, and it takes everything within Asahi not to take this further and move himself into it, not to let the intense feeling deep down in himself take over.  
He’s painfully aware of how small Noya is right now, how his whole body shakes with every shuddering touch, like harsh ripples of water when disturbed by a rock. Yet it doesn’t feel wrong, under his large hands the tremble of Noya’s back reminds him of how sprouting daisies bends and sweeps in a light summer breeze.  
Asahi finally breaks the kiss, panting, when the dong of Noya’s large clock echoes from the corridor. He blinks a moment, trying to bring his foggy head back to reality.  
“what- what time is it?” Noya smirks at the crack In Asahi’s voice, and makes a big deal of exaggerating his body over Asahi’s when he leans over him to check his phone.  
Oh god Noya is so close to him.  
“just turned midnight.” Noya hums, clicking the lock on his phone. Asahi nods.  
“why, ya tired?”  
“we have practice tomorrow morning, I don’t want Daichi to be mad at us because we’re tired…” Noya tilts his head, still smirking, still sprawled across Asahi’s lower torso with his stomach pressing against his. Still dangerously close and tense against Asahi.  
“Daichi’s not even that scary, Asahi! I could take him!” Asahi tries on a small grin, his large hands engulfing Noya’s waist.  
“Is that so?”  
“Well, I mean Daichi is a little scary. But I think if it came to it I could-” Noya’s voice dissolves into a squawk as Asahi digs his fingers dig into Noya’s sides, moving frantically. Noya continues to squawk and splutter in laughter, screaming at Asahi to “stop, stop Asahi fucking stop” as he tickles him, but Asahi has a firm grip on him, pinning Noya down so now he hovers over him. His fingers tracing teasingly over the sensitive areas on Noya’s neck and gently prodding the indent of his hips and stomach. Noya gasps happily, randomly grasping at Asahi’s shirt until he’s toppled down on top of Noya, whose finally free of Asahi. His chest heaves in relief, but he still giggles softly even though Asahi’s fingers no longer roam his body.  
Instead they’re sprawled out on the mattress, making sure he won’t crush Noya in his tiny bed. They’re noses almost touch and Asahi is forced to drink in the dust of pink which flowers on Noya’s cheeks, the mess of his hair after the gel makes it stick in odd angles, sculptured by the bed. He stares, hopeless under the work of art which is Nishinoya Yuu.  
Nishinoya must have noticed, because he lands a firm but not violent punch to Asahi’s stomach, forcing him to collapse. Noya quickly pulls at Asahi’s limbs, rearranging the pair until Asahi is nestled into Noya’s chest, Noya’s arms wrapped around his shoulder blades and pulling him close. Asahi frowns, and is about to object.  
“you’d be the worst big spoon in the world, Asahi” Noya hushes, as if he’s read his mind. Asahi closes his mouth, and just instead breathes in the smell of Noya which engulfs him. He smells faintly of oranges and artificial mango most likely from his hair gel, skin faintly of sweat. He’s about too settle himself in the nestle of Noya’s neck, happily, when it hits him.  
“You should probably go and get the futon, for me.” Noya looks down at him frowning. Asahi gulps. “It’s getting late after all, and again Daichi-”  
“Asahi.” The serious tone Noya ploys to his first name cuts off any train of thought he had.  
It sounded so tense, almost sexual, and yet as if he was being scolded.  
Being with Noya was weird. “You’re sleeping with me. Duh.” Asahi parts his lips, hoping a good excuse would just jump out of his mouth for him. (He can’t help but feel like ‘I cry in my sleep and wakeup panicking and terrified’ wouldn’t be the most romantic thing to say right now. He’d rather never ever have to tell Noya, too be honest.)  
But it doesn’t, he can only lamely manage “we’re not ready for bed.” Noya sighs loudly and longly. Then, he grabs the hem of Asahi’s shirt along with his own and in one swift swoop drags the fabric separating them away. He tosses it too the floor carelessly.  
Asahi’s face creases like the t-shirts.  
“There, now we are.”  
“You’re- you’re still in your jeans, the lights still on-” Noya reaches over and flips the switch of his bedside lamp off and then turns to Asahi.  
“You just want a strip tease, don’t you?” Asahi’s face twists in horror and embarrassment, shoving his hands to cover it. Noya’s laugh bellows loud and deep and oh god he might die for the second time today.  
Well, he kinda would like a strip tease, in a way— but he thinks he’d die of embarrassment if Noya ever did such a thing.  
And, maybe die of something else.  
“Asahi! Don’t look so mortified! I’d be a wonderful stripper!” Asahi groans under the pressure of the idea.  
“Please stop teasing me, Noya-san.” Asahi mumbles into his hands. Noya barks another laugh.  
“Okay! Okay! No need for the formalities.” He then flops back down on the bed, and Asahi can feel him wiggling next to him. The shift of stiff fabric tells Asahi as much as he needs to know, the thud of Noya’s jeans hitting the floor.  
Maybe he wouldn’t have a nightmare tonight, because he’d be kept awake by the press of a practically naked Noya. He feels the trace of Noya’s fingers on his sweatpants waste band and he literally gulps.  
Out of fear or arousal or a conflicting mixture of both he has no idea.  
“You can, you can take these off if you wanted…” Asahi shakes his head. The stretch of Noya’s boxers which press against his torso is already too much. He didn’t think he could cope if he was stripped too, vulnerable.  
The picture of Daichi slamming a bouquet of flowers down on his grave angrily was becoming more and more realistic by the moment.  
“But, I could also go and put pyjamas on, if that’s what you wanted, too.” He hates how caring and sincere Noya sounded. He hates how he feels like he ruins everything, keeps everything in the same position. Like stone, like statues.  
So he shakes his head, and he decides to be selfish.  
Because this awful ache at the pit of his stomach tells him that, if the night creeps under his skin, Noya may not ever want to do this again. 

Asahi knew what was happening before he could stop it.  
He had come accustom to the feeling, of suffocation, the way it clung to his skin like wet clothes, the way it filled his lungs like tar.  
And today was no exception, the ceiling coming dangerously close to his face and the darkness swallowing his surroundings. To close his eyes made no difference, for there was nothing but blackness.  
It was like death, conscious death, that gnawed at his consciousness and licked at the napes of his skin like ice. It suffocated him, it closed around his throat and seeped under his skin and takes him. The silence was drowning, there was nothing around him nothing but fear to wrap around his skin and silence to fill his head. It’s all so tight, so binding, so unforgivably cold and close and he can feel it tightening around his lungs and just closing in further and further and further-  
“TO ME! TO ME” A sharp pain slammed into Asahi’s waist with brutal force and his eyes fly open. He felt air rush through his lungs and another jolt to his body before he was crashing, wheezing and gasping in a heap on firm floor boards. Air slams through his lungs and pants out of his mouth, clutching his side as it throbs.  
But he’s breathing and his eyes are adjusting and he can make out the faint outline of a towering wardrobe and the legs of a pull out table a couple of inches from his face.  
“I GOT THIS- I GOT THIS.” He tries to steady his breathing, although he’s just thankful he can breathe at all. Where even was he? It’s dark- he must have been asleep, surely. But someones crying out in a wild and almost enthusiastic matter-  
he feels a sob rush through him before it even registers with his head, staggered gasps and hot tears coat his face. He tries to gulp the sobs but they just keep rolling out with every thump of his heart, the night slowly releasing his heaving chest.  
“A…Asahi?” The voice is quiet and distant, groggy. He wished he was at home, where he could just suck on his pillow till the sobbing finally stopped and the shaking died down.  
“Asahi?” the voice is more panicked now, and he hears the fumble of limbs and the thud of an arm hitting wood. Then light streaks across the room, expelling the darkness to a dim navy blue that lurked in corners the bedside light just couldn’t reach. His heart still pounds painfully hard, and he can feel the sting of sharp edges digging.  
The sting was brining him back, he was sure.  
“Oh no, oh no.” Suddenly there where hands all over him, tracing his shoulders and steadying. Then there where hands over his hands, pulling them away. He hadn’t even realised they where anywhere near his body- yet he felt them being ripped from his aching heart, fingers pried away.  
“Asahi, Azumane. Breathe. Breathe with me.” the voice syncs with his lips, shrill and panicked. Asahi nods. At leas he hopes he nods. He defiantly slumps into him, if that’s the same as nodding. Which he knows it’s not.  
He just needs to calm down.  
“I’ve got you, you’re good. We’re good. You’re safe. We’re safe.” His heart beat slowly begins to become less harsh, less crushing against his rib cage. It still flutters with force, but it no longer pumps elusive fear through his body.  
Instead he’s able to focus on the feeling of fingers through his hair and a hand tangled with his, gripping hard. He blinks a few times, focussing.  
Noya’s hair’s gone limp, he notices. The press of the cushion flattening it, only a few strands left on edge. The dyed blond streak lays flat in between his eyes.  
Asahi moves a shaking hand to push it out of the way, it feels sticky with sweat under the trace of his finger tips. And it immediately droops back down when he tries to push it away.  
Noya grasps his fingers in between his.  
Asahi breathing begins to steady, and after a long while the world shifts back into place and everything finally makes sense.  
Except one thing. The shouting was a new thing.  
He’s about to apologise, to beg for forgiveness—to try and explain. To ask him to at least talk to him again someday. To leave.  
But Noya beats him to it.  
“this is all my fault.” he whispers flatly. Asahi blinks, confused. He goes to correct Noya, because he must be confused, but Noya’s lips are already moving.  
“I should have told you. I should have warned you. Oh this is all my fault.” Confusion settles in Asahi’s bones, keeping his physical exhaustion at bay.  
“No, Noya. I should have told you this happens, I can’t believe I let this happen-”  
“Tanaka told me I should have warned you. That it was weird. I didn’t want you to think-”  
“it’s not fair on you, to deal with this. No one should-”  
“I was weird. This was so unfair of me-”  
“I’m sorry.” the two finish in union. Their eyes meet, a reflection of uncertainty and questioning. Noya blinks and his brow furrows.  
“In my sleep,” Noya begins, shakily, “I do this weird. This weird thing. I don’t know.” Noya’s hands leave Asahi’s and he grips his hair in frustration, growling lowly. Asahi watches for a second and then extends a shaking hand onto Noya’s head, coaxing him. Noya sighs and leans into the touch.  
“If I dream about volleyball I basically start dreaming- allowed I guess. And I start shouting and it’s super weird and pretty terrifying and I also sort of,” Noya extends one of his legs and an arm to demonstrate, “start acting it out, as well. The match. The match in my dream. I just start doing what I do in the dream.” Noya looks down at the floor guiltily. “And I can’t believe I bullied you into sleeping in the same bed as me without warning you. I must have scarred you awake I’m awful. And super selfish. Fuck.” Noya grips at the edges of his boxers and lets an angry breath hiss through his mouth.  
Asahi sits there.  
“I have panic attacks in my sleep.” Noya looks up slowly, and Asahi whips his head away to restudy Noya’s bedrooms walls. “sometimes I wake up and, I can’t breathe. And I start crying, and I can’t control them when they happen. How they happen. Normally when I’m nervous or worried- I think, that’s maybe what triggers them.” He can feel Noya’s large eyes bare into the side of his face, and it leaves holes in his stomach. “and I didn’t tell you because it’s just another stupid thing for you to deal with. Being with me. It’s just another reason not to be.” He feels the trace of Noya’s fingers where his nails had dug into his chest. The action is a question.  
“Sometimes other— outside pain can bring me to my senses. I don’t even have a cat.” He still doesn’t look at him. “I don’t do it on purpose, consciously.”  
“I’m sorry,” Asahi’s voice cracks. “I’ll get my things. You don’t— we can stop this. It’s ok. I’ll be ok. I shouldn’t have done this too you.”  
“It’s 2.am. You can’t go”  
“I can walk home.”  “I don’t want you too.” He finally turns to look at Noya, whose hand now lays flat against his bicep. Noya’s skin cool on his burning skin.  
His eyes are orbs of chestnut light, dusted with deep brown speckles. And they don’t look hateful, they don’t look angry.  
They look sad, and doe like.  
“It helped.” Asahi managed. Noya tilts his head.  
“What did?”  “You, your dreaming. It woke me. And,” he thumbles through another harsh breath and Noya looks pained, “the suddenness of it all. The cries of happiness, of excitement, and even the harsh kick. It all helped.” He truly looks at Noya now, his pale skin kissed by dim light and his red boxers against his the pale of his thigh and torso remind him of red berries against white frosting. His hands look so dark against Noya’s skin.  
“I woke up to hearing you. To being overwhelmed by you. Breathing you.”  
Noya stares, and his hand he curls behind Asahi’s neck. He pushes gently on his bicep to pull himself up, and their lips connect lightly, so gently.  
Yet Asahi feels electric run through his exhausted body.  
“we’re,” Noya prods Asahi in the dent of his collar bone “we’re ok. Or, at least, we’re going to be ok.” His hand ghosts the harsh scratches again, “and we’re going to get through this sort of thing. Because as long as I’m here—” he pauses.  
And then he shakes with laughter that ripples through Asahi too. He feels Noya’s laughter in his veins.  
“—you’re invincible!”  “Noya! You can’t make fun of the kohai when they’re not even here—not at a moment like this! It’s beyond mean!” Asahi still laughs, though, and Noya still sniggers.  
And they sit like that for a while, Noya holding Asahi in his small grip, Asahi letting Noya nestle between his legs, their foreheads pressed together.  
Laughing.  
And maybe they don’t go to practice tomorrow, maybe they stay in bed all day. But whatever. They deserve it. 

*** 

Kageyama places the controller down, and glares ahead. His fingers curl into a fist and he scowls. Hinata blinks and pauses the game, pulling himself up from his slumping position against Kageyama, rubbing his eyes sleepily.  “Hey? What’s wrong? Did you pause the game because you where losing?” Kageyama lets the provocation roll by him, still glaring.  
“I don’t know why, but I get the strangest feeling someone’s mocking me—us.”

**Author's Note:**

> i hope you enjoyed the homo and the fluff and the more homo and then the angst. Was it good? who knows.


End file.
